


Sex and violence

by mapi_littleowl



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Croatoan/Endverse, M/M, Might appear slighlty dub-con so be careful, Top!Castiel, bottom!Dean, cas feels
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 19:06:51
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,120
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1237651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mapi_littleowl/pseuds/mapi_littleowl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"So what, you burst in here talking shit about my brother and still expect me to fuck you? You're dreaming."<br/>"You're not fucking me," Castiel says.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Sex and violence

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the [COWT4](http://maridichallenge.livejournal.com/72692.html) @ [maridichallenge](http://maridichallenge.livejournal.com), prompt Angry!Sex.
> 
> I honestly don't know what to say. XD I just hope you guys can enjoy it a little bit!

Castiel is expecting it, but it still hurt like a bitch when the fist hits his nose. His head spins backward and he stumbles on his feet, slamming against the wall where Dean is pinning him, his face dirty, livid and devastated. Castiel feels his own blood dripping from his nose to his bottom lip, warm and thick, its smell stronger than anything right now. His head hurts a bit, but nothing is more painful than the set of eyes in front of him, so full of rage and betrayal Castiel just want to raise his hands and hold him tight in his arms, tell him everything is alright, apologize for everything the world has ever done wrong to him.

But he can't. That's not the point and, more importantly, it's not what Dean needs to hear right now.

"What the fuck did you say?"

Castiel holds his gaze defiantly, his chin raised. "You heard me."

Dean grunts and shoves him against the wall once again, but this time Castiel manages to keep his head from hitting the wooden surface too hard.

"That's my brother you're talking about, you--"

"Your _brother_ just allowed the most powerful and dreadful monster to take possession of his body and condemned the world to its end, so forgive me if I don't think much of his strength or intellectual skills."

"Don't you dare!"

Castiel allows the first punch to land on his cheekbone, but he ducks his head when Dean goes for another one aiming at the general direction of his mouth that in the end barely scrapes his ear.

This is crazy. Everything is crazy right now. The world it's collapsing on itself, infected with evil that's spreads faster than thought – it's a slow motion nightmare that becomes darker and darker as the clock ticks by, but there's no wake up call, no blazing light to pierce through this veil to wake them all up in a world where hope is still bright and alive.

Castiel knows. The angels, the only beings strong enough to withstand this, are leaving, too. It won't take much for the few of them still on Earth to retreat in Heaven and shutting the door behind their backs. Sometimes Castiel thinks he should go, too. He remembers what his brothers and sisters whispered among themselves, how these naked monkeys brought it upon themselves, and he knows this is true.

It had started long ago, when Mary Campbell gave her son to Azazel in exchange for her husband's life, when Dean sold his soul in order to save Sam and ended up breaking the First Seal, when Sam succumbed to his grief and pride and let Ruby lead him to break the last seal, and now, saying yes to Lucifer.

Castiel could believe this. Could tell himself to see it this way, to blame two generations of Campbells for all the wrong that's happening on Earth, and some days he even tries to, but in the end he can't, because when he raises his head and Dean is there, tall and proud, trying so hard not to yield and give up, he can't think of a sole reason why he should abandon this man.

Dean's eyes are always clear. He's righteous and beautiful and grieving, so broken inside it hurts Castiel's bones, too, and he just can't leave. He's losing himself, losing his Grace slowly, as if it's draining from his body, but Dean is worth it. Dean has always been worth everything he had.

This is why they're here. Because Sam said yes to Lucifer and Castiel knows that were he to turn his back now, Dean would just fall. He would blame himself, tell himself it was all his mistake, because he let Sam go and broke any bridge between the two of them – he should have been with his little brother even if it was unbearable, even if it had become to hard because how could he be selfish at the world's expenses? At _Sam_ 's expenses?

Dean would never blame Sam, he just couldn't, it just wasn't him. So, Castiel figures, it's better Dean points his rage at him, rather than at himself.

"Dare what? Tell the truth? Someone here ought to."

Dean says nothing and tries to punch him again. Castiel laughs, a broken, dreadful laugh, and slides on the side, completely out of reach for the other man. It doesn't take him much strength to spin around and invert their positions, slamming Dean against the wall where he was standing a moment ago.

Dean fights him, but Castiel is still stronger than him, and he pins Dean there effortlessly, staring at his blazing gaze where he can see tears forming in the corners of his eyes. He jaw is set stubbornly, his cheeks dirty, and Castiel wishes he were able to put him back together like he used to – touch his forehead and make all the pain and the sorrow disappear, bring him peace, at least for a little while, show him a world that's not corrupted and broken.

But he can't. Not anymore. Or maybe he never could. That's probably why kissing him seems so natural. He pushes their mouths together, deeply, and for a second Dean just stands there, wide eyed and shocked, but Castiel doesn't withdraw. This is right, he tells himself, isn't it? That's what humans do when they are sad and done and hopeless and in love, and Dean is and Castiel does love Dean, so this is what he should do.

This is what he can do for him. He can give him the relief of a warm body pressed against his, he can pin him down and kiss his breath away, scratch his skin until he breaks it to make the blood – the life – come up to the surface.

It takes a second before Dean finally responds to the kiss.

He grips Castiel's face in his hands and deepens the kiss. He pushes his tongue in the other's mouth and ravishes it, scraping his lips with teeth and Castiel allows it, welcomes the pain and gives back just as much, because it's a proof he is alive. That they both are. And they need it.

They part for a second to breathe and Castiel is on him again in a second, biting and claiming, leaving Dean struggling there beneath him, his shoulders scraping against the wall.

"Fuck you, dude," spats Dean, pushing him away, and Castiel bites his neck in response. Dean shouts, or moans, or both, while Castiel's hands are on his chest, trailing up and down, feeling the outline of his bones and muscles more than caressing him, as if he just wants to impress the other man's shape in his mind.

"Might as well. We're pretty fucked up, anyway. Things are only bound to get worse from now on."

"Then leave. You can, can't you. Just go! Leave us miserable pieces of shit to clean our own mess. That's what the other angels are doing anyway, aren't they?"

"Not all of them."

"Yeah, I bet that bastard Michael is just waiting 'round the corner for me to let him wear me to the prom, isn't he? As if."

Castiel doesn't reply to that. He bites Dean's neck again and lowers his hand to grip Dean's groin. He squeezes there, feeling the other's erection hot against his palm and Dean tries unsuccessfully to get free from his hold. "So what, you burst in here talking shit about my brother and still expect me to fuck you? You're dreaming."

"You're not fucking me," Castiel says. Before Dean could start making up a comeback in his head Castiel grips him tight with his free hand and turns him around, slamming Dean face first against the wall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?"

Castiel doesn't reply. Instead he uses his strength to pin dean where he is, a hand between his shoulder blades and the other still pressed over his crotch. Dean buckles his hips backward only to meet Castiel's own growing erection, and Castiel holds him there against him, making him squirm.

"You son of a bitch!"

"No," Castiel whispers, and the hand on his back moves upward to his neck. He closes his fingers on his hair, making him jerk his head backwards. "Right now _you_ are my bitch."

Dean grunts and he rotates his hips against both Castiel's hand and his crotch, feeling him and looking for a bit of relief. Castiel is fast to undress him. He shoves Dean's zip down and lowers his jeans and his underwear enough to uncover his ass and then opens his own pants, too, pulling his already hard dick out.

It occurs to him, just now, that he doesn't have a thing to ease his way in, but it's too late to go grab some lube. Or to go back. Dean is writhing and grunting beneath him, and Castiel wants this - he wants this for himself, he wants this for Dean, because if he can at least manage to make Dean hate him instead of himself it would still be a victory.

So Castiel just spits on his fingers and without so much of a warning he pushes the tip of his thumb in the other's body. Dean screams at the intrusion and a roll of blasphemy leaves his mouth, but he doesn't do a thing to push Castiel away, so he starts opening him up, and soon his index and middle fingers take the place of his thumb. He moves slowly and painfully at first, because nothing is easing his way, but the muscles start to relax eventually and Castiel knows this is still going to be hard and painful for the both of them, but isn't it the whole point?

"You just gonna be a fucking tease, you bastard?"

Castiel bites his neck, the small portion of shoulder he can reach beneath Dean's shirt, and the other shouts a broken laugh. "That's my boy," he says, but his voice dies in his throat when Castiel takes of his fingers and spit on the palm of his hand once, twice, three times, putting as much saliva as he can along his shaft – which is completely useless, but he still has to try.

When he's ready he pushes Dean's face against the wall and, as much as the other body allows him, slams in. They are both grunting and screaming now, because it's hard, and painful and every part of them is burning. Castiel has been into Hell, he remembers being surrounded by demons and sin and abominations, but this is way more intense.

Dean's body is a trap he's sinking in on his own accord, and it's probably going to kill them both, but he won't stop now. He can't. Not when he is nothing but pleasure and pain and feeling and Dean is screaming and cussing and pushing his ass back toward him.

When he's in, neither of them can hide a sigh of relief.

It takes Castiel a moment to adjust in the burning heat of the other man's body, a few more for Dean, but soon they are moving, one against the other, slamming back and forth against the wall, and everything is flesh and sweat and noise and screams and names whispered behind teeth. They curse and bite and fuck into one another as if this is their last day on Earth, as if they have been waiting for it their whole lives.

Maybe they have.

Castiel's hand is still around Dean's shaft, and this is probably why Dean comes first. He's a sobbing mess, teeth grinding and eyes shutting, big tear drops rolling down his cheeks, and Castiel follows soon after, unbothered to get out of him to come. He's hot and heavy and desperate, and he empties his balls inside the other man, riding his orgasm until the end and then some more.

He ends with his head resting on Dean's shoulder, and they stand there a little while, quiet and worn out. Then, Castiel pulls out and Dean slips away from beneath him to get dressed. None of them stop to get clean and when Castiel close his pants he sees Dean stumbling toward the bed and dropping on it face first.

He waits a moment, just to hear if the other is going to say something, but he doesn't. Unexpectedly, he doesn't even cry. He just lays there, face buried in his pillow with his shoulders raising and falling with the steady rhythm of his breath.

Castiel sighs and drops on the floor, his back against the wall and his gaze never leaving the other man.


End file.
